Tea
by TigerShadow
Summary: Had it really been so long that he had met the now-legendary trio? Now he was meeting their children.


Next gen! Yay! :D I love writing the next generation; Harry Potter is really putting a lot of prompts and plot bunnies in my head and I love writing it.

For anyone who's reading this and has been reading Love and War, I've written the next chapter; I just need to type it. I will update soon; I promise!

* * *

><p>He couldn't help it—he was lonely.<p>

It wasn't unusual—at least as far as being alone was concerned. He spent evenings, weekends, and all sorts of holidays with none to talk to but Fang and Buckbeak (returned to him and acquitted by Kingsley Shacklebolt). They were good company—excellent listeners—but not the sort of friends he was hoping for.

It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione he wanted back here—still students, with nothing to worry about but their next exams and Professor Snape's latest essay. He missed them dearly…many had come before them and after, but he'd met none like them—probably never would.

He occasionally met a good one out of the lot. He remembered Teddy Lupin, who had had a genuine fascination for magical creatures that he had been more than ready and willing to expound upon. He recalled a few of the older Weasleys of the newer generation, all of whom he had already known. There was Christopher Wood, who joined Teddy at Hogwarts and developed a similar liking for the subject. All of them paid regular visits—perhaps more than was reasonable; he expected Teddy often brought along a certain cloak and map—and there was something in many of them that ushered in nostalgia so much that it was nearly painful.

And yet it wasn't the same. It probably never would be.

On some occasions, however—this one included—he was very glad to be proven wrong.

He'd already met James Sirius Potter. He much more reminded him of his grandfather rather than his father, but he was Harry's son all the same. James, in fact, regularly visited him, again under the guise of his father's old cloak.

Albus Severus, however…Albus was different. He was his father's son, through and through, right down to the deep green eyes of his grandmother and the hair that never seemed to lie flat. He had hardly met Albus—just enough to take in physical attributes—but he had invited him and Rose Weasley to tea the Friday at the end of the first week of term. Both accepted, and he had to wonder just how similar to their parents they both were.

He had just put the tea on when he heard a knocking on the door of his hut. He heard a few whispers behind it and tried to listen in spite of himself as he quickly readied the cabin.

"Oh, come off it, you'll be fine!"

"But…but what about all that stuff my dad did? And Lucius?"

"Hagrid's not like that. If we say you're alright, he'll believe us."

"Well…alright…"

Just as the voice—familiar, yet unrecognizable—finished speaking, Hagrid pulled open the aging, creaking door to reveal Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and an unfamiliar boy standing behind them. Looking closer—but not too much closer—he found that the boy was a near perfect lookalike of Draco Malfoy.

He had heard a long while back—soon, he suddenly remembered, after the birth of Albus—that the Malfoy family had a new member. However, it had not occurred to him that he might actually _meet_ this member. Little Scorpius—Hagrid had assumed that he might get sent off to Durmstrang or some other school up north, considering that all Draco himself had done at Hogwarts was complain about it, in addition to being an arrogant prat and a general pain in the neck.

At the same time, he knew nothing of Scorpius, just as he had known nothing of Harry, Ron, or Hermione—and they had turned out quite well. He had given them and many students before and after them chances, and he saw it perfectly reasonable to do so now.

"C'mon in and have a cuppa!" He smiled warmly and gestured them inside.

The trio settled down as the tea kettle began to whistle and rattle over the fire. As Hagrid poured them tea, they began to discuss the start of term.

"There's loads of staircases," Albus was saying, "and if it wasn't for Rose and the map we'd have gotten lost loads more than we did."

"If you'd _listened_ to our parents and aunts and uncles, you'd know a bit better, wouldn't you, Albus?" Rose, truly her mother's daughter, had the same expression on her face that Hagrid had seen on Hermione whenever she spoke to Ron so many years ago.

"Why should he?" Scorpius, having been quiet for the discussion so far, spoke up from his corner, eyebrows raised. "He's got you; what's he need a mum for?"

Albus snorted out half his tea, Rose glared, and Scorpius's lip twitched into what appeared to be a barely restrained smile.

"Oh!" Albus suddenly jerked his head up, green eyes widening. "We forgot! Hagrid, this is Scorpius Malfoy." At the mention of his last name, Scorpius cringed, as though the mention of it were some sort of poison. "He's in Gryffindor with Rose and me."

"H'lo there, Scorpius." Hagrid smiled welcomingly, but his mind was whirring. A Malfoy, in Gryffindor? This was certainly a surprise, but not an altogether unpleasant one; this was a sure sign that at least Scorpius had been raised to be better than his father.

The boy in question lowered his white-blonde head. "Yeah…listen, Hagrid…I know what—what all my father did when he was here, and—"

"Yer not like 'im, are yeh?" Hagrid interrupted. "If yeh were, yeh wouldn' be here, would yeh? Yeh'd be in Slytherin, wouldn' yeh? Bu' yer in Gryffindor, aren' yeh? And any friend o' Al and Rose is a friend o' mine."

Scorpius raised his head, looking shocked and relieved. "Oh…thanks!"

He loosened up quite a bit after this exchange.

"Anyway, I think I like Transfiguration and Muggle Studies the best." Now that Scorpius had had his moment, Rose seemed to have decided to take the reins and become a redheaded eleven-year-old Hermione again.

"I'd have thought you'd be right bored in there, Rose," Albus remarked. "Aunt Hermione is Muggle-born."

"Yes, but she doesn't tell us everything she really knows! And some of the things we learn are _fascinating!_" Rose's eyes seemed to widen as she spoke. "I've learned _loads,_ it's really interesting!"

That was likely the way it had been for most students—at least the open-minded ones. The subject had become compulsory for all Hogwarts students. After Hogwarts had been repaired and reopened, McGonagall—newly made Headmistress—had made Muggle Studies a required subject, as the anti-Muggle and Muggle-born movement had yet to die out. A teacher had been screened and interviewed by the Headmistress herself for both competency and lack of bias, and the subject was now mandatory from first year onward.

"Yes, she learns," Scorpius scoffed, "when she's not busy being her mum all over again."

Albus cracked a grin. "Yes, she's just as big of a pain as Aunt Hermione."

"I s'pose Ron an' Hermione'll appreciate tha'." Hagrid smiled. "What abou' you, Al? What's yer favorite?"

Albus was silent for a moment, then answered, "I'm not sure. I guess Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm pretty good at it so far, and Professor Macmillan's brilliant."

"Ernie? Yeah, I remember 'im. He was at Hogwarts, same year as yer parents. He was alrigh', for a Hufflepuff." Hagrid turned to the third member of the trio. "What abou' you, Scorpius?"

"Oh…well…" Scorpius's brow furrowed as he mulled it over. "Charms is alright, and I like Herbology—Professor Longbottom's really good."

"He was one of my dad's mates here," Albus interjected. "Still is; we've had him round for tea loads of times."

Scorpius said nothing of the interruption; he continued speaking, though he lowered his head again as he did so. "Everyone expects me to be the best at Potions," he mumbled, "all because of Dad, or the Slytherin-Potions thing…but I don't want to be—I'm not. And I'm not even in Slytherin, but they think that since all my family was it doesn't make a difference. Slughorn probably thinks I should be the best, too."

"Slughorn's a bit…diff'rent," Hagrid replied. "He wants ter try an' make ev'ryone he teaches famous, or high-up. He gets 'em known, they send 'im stuff. Or summat. But he's a good teacher, in't he? One o' the best Potions masters Hogwarts has ever seen. Don' let 'em all get to yeh. They don' know anythin' abou' yeh yet—'cept they should know who yeh aren' like."

"Well…" Scorpius still looked doubtful, but he didn't touch on the subject.

The discussions eventually branched out to the Hogwarts staff ("And they all knew all our family, it's sort of weird," Albus said), food ("Mum says it's all cooked by house elves, she got really worked up," Rose remarked), and Quidditch ("Mum and Dad said to try out, but I'd rather watch it than play, and anyway, I'm awful on a broom," Scorpius explained). Soon, Rose looked at her watch and announced that they would have to go up to the castle for dinner.

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Albus grinned.

"It was really nice of you! We'll come again soon," Rose promised.

"It was really great meeting you." Scorpius's smile, out of all of them, was the most genuine.

"An' you, Scorpius." Before Scorpius could follow the two cousins, who were talking rather animatedly about something or another, Hagrid placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don' listen to 'em," he muttered. "The ones who tease yeh. Yer not yer dad, an' they'll figure it out. Give 'em time."

Scorpius looked up at him, grey eyes shining. "Thanks, Hagrid."

"Yer welcome. Now run along," he ordered. "Yeh don' wanna miss the feast."

Grinning broadly, Scorpius waved goodbye, then chased after Al and Rose.

Hagrid began humming to himself as he prepared to go up to the feast. As he did, he began to think.

How long had it been? Twenty-six years since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had first come to Hogwarts. They had grown, matured, fought battles both physical and emotional. It had seemed just yesterday that Harry and his friends had been eleven, and now their children were the same age and taking their place.

He thought especially of Scorpius. The boy was so unlike his father at heart, though they were certainly alike in looks. Scorpius was a boy who came from a troubled family, raised in the presence of two former Death Eaters, and yet he showed more character than his father and grandfather ever had. Perhaps Scorpius was, among other things, a way for Draco to redeem himself.

Yes, he mused, the boy would turn out just fine.

* * *

><p>...I really hope I wrote Hagrid's speech right...<p> 


End file.
